Gone Fishing
by itsallsoverycanon
Summary: Gwen is forced on holiday with her husband Rhys to get a much needed break. Unfortunately, fate has different plans as strange occurrences happen at the resort. As one third of Torchwood Cardiff, Gwen is all alone with the mystery. Post Season 2.


_"Everyone has a bloody opinon." - Gwen_

**Chapter 1**

_Everyone Knows Best_

The beaches were very clean, very white, just like the ocean was very blue. Or was it green? Gwen wasn't quite sure, but it was all very _paid programming._ Just like the pamphlet. It was picture perfect.

She'd almost rather be at the Hub.

"What this sexy lady doing all alone on a balcony?" asked Rhys, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her hips. "Doesn't your man know a woman like you could be swept away with the next breeze?"

Gwen smiled and leaned back. "Oh, I'm so lonely. What am I to do? Any ideas?" She batted her eyes up at him innocently.

Rhys affected serious thought. "I can think of a few things…" he managed to say with a straight face. "First up, oil and a body massage."

The thought made all sorts of places on her body tingle. "Oh, I like that idea. I just hope my husband doesn't walk in on us. It could be a bad scene." She turned around in Rhys's arms, grinning.

"It's okay, I like to be watched," Rhys murmured, voice low and sexy.

Gwen let out a giggle before snogging the life out of Rhys.

She'd almost rather be at the Hub.

Almost.

---

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"Am so."

"Are not."

"So."

"Not."

"Will this grade school debate continue?" asked Ianto quietly, setting down coffee in the arguers favorite mugs. They were all in the boardroom, scowling at each other. Well, Jack and Gwen were. Ianto pointedly looked at neither of them. "I just want to know if I should make a bit of popcorn. Seeing as how engaging this all really is."

Gwen scowled at Ianto. Why'd he always have to be so damn sensible? Conceding to Jack wasn't an option her pride would allow. Her mental stability was wholly intact. Completely, in fact.

"You need it, you're going, that's it." Jack crossed his arms and strode away from them. "No more arguments, Ms. Cooper, I mean, Williams," he added apologetically, though he didn't sound repentant at all.

Fury started to cloud Gwen's vision. Who'd he think he was? Her boss? He was, but what made him think he couldn't be challenged? That what he thought was best was actually the best? Split second decision made, Gwen made as if to follow him when Ianto caught her arm.

"Gwen just go," sighed Ianto, giving her a sympathetic and sincere look. "Go relax. Enjoy sandy beaches, male model-esqe cabana boys, wonderful margaritas, and blazing weather."

"I'd rather be catching Weevils," she replied.

"Think of the time you'll be spending with Rhys," persisted Ianto, almost pleading.

Gwen opened her mouth and blinked rapidly. She closed her mouth.

"That's my Ianto," announced Jack to the Hub, via intercom. "A man of little words and lots of persuasion. Using his various techniques of pretty to shut someone up. Can I have my turn?" he asked hopefully.

Ianto sighed as if put upon.

Gwen gave him a knowing smile.

"Insatiable," muttered Ianto.

---

Gwen was confronted with packed suitcases in her living room. She couldn't believe Jack and Ianto would actually have the audacity to pack for her. Gwen froze, hearing rummaging coming from her bedroom. She immediately pulled out her gun, posture more defensive than offensive. Unlike some swash-buckling men, she liked to know what something was before she put holes in it.

Hear tuned to the slightest noise, Gwen carefully made her way to her bedroom. She poised her gun towards the ceiling before swinging it out into her room, eyes alive with adrenaline.

"Who are you?" she barked at the intruder. They were in her closet, looking as if one of her clothes baskets fell on their heads. They turned around slowly, their head covered in one of Gwen's undergarments. Was that her favorite lace bra? "What are you doing shagging my under things!"

"It's me, Gwen!" a muffled voice cried out. The person slipped one half of a b-cup down, revealing a familiar brown iris. "Christ, it's a wonder I married you. I've almost been shot so many times by my wife and have yet to be doing anything devious."

"Well, you know, me," laughed Gwen nervously, putting her gun away, "trigger happy to the end. Never know when you're gonna pull one on me, do I? Best to let you know now so you don't go straying, eh?"

Rhys snorted.

She walked into the room and then paused. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at work…" She then looked around at their tossed bedroom. "Plus, why does it look like a laundry disaster happened?"

Sheepishly pulling Gwen's lingerie off his head, Rhys gave her a long rambling story. Jack showed up to his job. Jack gave him tickets to Bermuda. Jack told Rhys to have a lovely holiday with the missus, so he could have a lovely holiday with his. Rhys asked Jack where he would be. Jack told him the Hub. Rhys inquired about a new employee. Jack told Rhys he hadn't hired anyone new. Rhys said the only person that would be working at the Hub was Ianto. Jack only grinned.

"At that point, I just took the tickets because… he kind of…" Rhys paused and shook his head, unable to think of any words to describe Jack just then. "Anyway, he told me you probably needed a break from the latest case."

Gwen rolled her eyes, giving Rhys a flat stare. "There's nothing wrong with me," she insisted, sweeping clothes off the corner of the bed and sitting down. "I don't know what all the fuss is about…"

"Oh, come off it, Gwen!" Rhys exasperation was plain on his face. "You haven't been right since the alien-baby napper thing!"

Gwen felt sick thinking about it. She remembered retconing all those poor expecting parents and lies so vile her mouth felt like a tar pit. It had been a very grim day, especially when she, Ianto, and Jack realized they couldn't return any of the newborns to their parents. The alien had successfully implanted all the babies it had stolen into alien eggs. The eggs changed the infants species. It changed them irreversibly. In eggs that needed to be destroyed. Eggs that _Torchwood_ had to destroy.

Suddenly, Gwen started retching. Rhys was there with a trash bin and a comforting hand; wrapping her hair around his fingers, while rubbing the back of her neck. She hadn't even noticed the nausea until she was vomiting. She could remember the mess after they destroyed the eggs. Some still had the wristbands from the hospital. She remembered seeing a tiny hand in the carnage. A fresh wave of despair and self-loathing engulfed Gwen.

Rhys wiped her mouth with a nearby hand-towel and gathered Gwen against his solid body. _Good ole Rhys…_ Gwen wept silently for a good ten minutes before sniffling and using Rhys's t-shirt for a tissue.

"I suppose a holiday isn't a bad thing," said Gwen finally.

"It really isn't," agreed Rhys, soothingly rubbing Gwen's scalp. "Plus, it's free for us. We might as well have a go at it. Since our wages certainly won't be getting us there."

_I bet it's coming out of my wages_, thought Gwen absently, conjuring up a mental of Ianto balancing the books. Gwen frowned at an open suitcase.

"Did you try packing my things?" she asked.

"Yeah, just your outfits," replied Rhys.

"Well, you've got awful taste. That cardigan is _not_ to be worn in a place like Bermuda, let alone with _those_ pants."


End file.
